Chapter 7
Mother returned that evening after Ava slept.
Against my advice.
Meaning exactly as expected.
Margaret entered the formulation room, looked at Luca, and said:
“You’re uglier than the photograph.”
I closed my eyes.
My mother.
Luca almost smiled.
“Mrs. Caradonna.”
“No.”
She held up one hand.
“You don’t get manners after kissing my son’s fiancée in an airport.”
Fair.
Then I showed her the bottle containing Margaret No. 3.
Her face changed.
“My perfume.”
“Yes.”
She looked at Valeria.
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
Margaret studied her.
Then Luca.
Understanding.
“What exactly is wrong with all of you?”
An excellent summary.
Mother had worn Margaret No. 3 for twenty years.
My father commissioned it for their thirtieth anniversary.
Helena still made a few bottles annually.
Not commercially valuable.
Emotionally private.
Luca stealing that changed Mother’s anger.
The affair offended her.
This invaded something else.
“Why mine?”
She asked.
Luca answered:
“Because it was distinctive.”
Margaret laughed.
“So are fingerprints.”
Then:
“Doesn’t mean you collect them.”
Good.
She turned to Valeria.
“You shoved me for a photograph.”
Valeria looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“Not because you loved him.”
A glance at Luca.
“Because you were afraid Dominic would see everything before you were ready.”
“Yes.”
“Then you grabbed Ava.”
Valeria’s face broke.
“I wasn’t going to hurt her.”
Mother became cold.
“You used a child as something between you and evidence.”
Exactly.
Valeria had reached for Ava in panic.
Maybe to move her.
Maybe to get around me.
Intent uncertain.
Boundary clear.
Margaret continued.
“I liked you.”
That hurt Valeria.
Good.
“I defended you when Dominic became suspicious about nothing.”
My eyes narrowed.
Nothing?
Apparently Mother had often told me I was too controlling about guest lists and travel.
I had forgotten.
She looked at me.
“You’re not innocent either.”
Of course.
Family meeting.
Excellent.
“You keep women around you by solving everything for them.”
I frowned.
“That’s not—”
“Don’t become quiet.”
Damn.
Valeria looked up.
Mother had heard that accusation already.
Margaret continued:
“You solve cars. Security. houses. money. schedules.”
Then:
“You rarely ask what power they want that doesn’t come from you.”
Silence.
That was larger than tonight.
And painfully true.
Still—
Mother pointed at the vial.
May you like
“That doesn’t mean they get to steal my perfume.”
Balance restored.
